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Blog Entry 3 of 5 Gallery Of Soul Reflections

The poetry of Andy Newman is archaic, post-modern, and timeless.

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My Lovely Hands

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Contributed by: Andy Newman on 2/10/2007

My Lovely Hands
By Andy Newman

You don't want to stay here alone
With the lunatic
Do you?

For I am on a distant star
Half-cooked, half-baked
Elucidated by an ephemeral image
Of wh*res and pimps
And buyers and sellers
And every soul is on the market but my own

I prefer to keep it to myself, I
And let it grow, overwhelm all doubts
And even for the twists and shouts
I dance

And death watches my last festive repentance
As I solidify thus far my happenings
And glorify my activities
And dance in the name of death

And look to the left
And leave

Venetian blind, I call thee mine
And shut out what I'm told by mine
Brown eyes can lie, but never mine
For gold, for gold is always to be mine

If ownership is concurrent with a word,
Then I have shouted 'yes' a thousand times
And I have owned you, taken in my mind
A photograph of angular, curved line

Institute awaits me
And all that I have worked for
Can be destroyed if they take notice
And decide to build me up
And use me as a brick
To establish dividends for hungry men
Who have no soul, but a void
And must fill it with another's love
And snatch from my hands, my lovely hands
My makings, my power

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